


Why Not

by electroniccollectiondonut



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroniccollectiondonut/pseuds/electroniccollectiondonut
Summary: D'Artagnan has been at university for two weeks when he gets into a fight and ends up needing stitches. He doesn't know it yet, but the man who patches him up is going to drag him into so much drama.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Why Not

Constance wakes up to knocking. She just lays there for a few seconds, waiting to see if it will stop. It does not, so Constance heaves a sigh and literally rolls out of bed.

“What,” she demands when she opens the door.

“Um,” says the boy who woke her up in the middle of the night. He holds up his left forearm for her inspection, wrapped in a bloody towel. “You’re the RA?” he says. It comes out sounding more like a question. “I think I need stitches.”

Constance just looks at him for a second. He’s still dressed for the day in jeans and a t-shirt and she can see the makings of a nasty bruise on his cheek.

“You know fighting is against the rules,” she says, stepping aside to let him in. She turns on the light and gestures for him to sit down on the bed while she grabs some shorts out of her dresser. “D’Artagnan, right?”

He nods mutely, eyes averted while she gets dressed. Constance holds back a snort. He’s looking away while she’s putting  _ more  _ clothes on. “I’m decent,” she says, amusement coloring her voice. “Come on, we’re going to the clinic.”

“The campus clinic is closed for the night and I can’t afford the ER,” d’Artagnan says skeptically, but he stands up to follow her anyway.

“Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m doing.”

Constance slips on some flats and grabs her keys on the way out the door. D’Artagnan is following behind her like a lost puppy. It’s kind of cute.

“Where are we going?” he asks after a few minutes of walking. He’s still holding the towel on his arm, and he’s starting to look a little pale, though whether from pain or blood loss she can’t quite tell.

“It’s not very much farther,” Constance tells him. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“You walking me to the clinic?”

“The clinic. Aramis would get in a lot of trouble over it and Treville might not be able to get him out this time.”

“What?” d’Artagnan says after a few seconds.

Constance sighs and glances around furtively. “Okay,” she begins, “Aramis runs a clinic.”

D’Artagnan nods. “Okay.”

“The clinic is in his house. There’s no business license involved. It’s definitely not allowed.”

“He… is a doctor, though? Right?” d’Artagnan asks somewhat nervously.

“He’s pre-med. But he’s really good, I promise. And it’s free, as long as you swear not to tell anyone.”

“So… your pre-med friend is running an illegal free clinic out of his house,” d’Artagnan says.

Constance nods. “Yep. He gives any donations to charity and he’ll let you crash on the couch if you think you can sleep through the chaos that is his roommates and walk you home if you don’t. Like I said, don’t tell anybody.”

They walk up the front stairs of a fairly nice house just off campus and Constance rings the doorbell. They wait for long seconds, and d’Artagnan wonders if anyone is even going to answer at this time of night. Someone does. A young man comes to the door, hair and clothes rumpled with sleep. He looks remarkably awake considering that he can’t have been awake for more than ten seconds.

“Hi Aramis,” Constance says.

He grins. “Hello Connie. Need us to punch someone out for you?”

Constance rolls her eyes. “One time and that’s all you’ll ever remember me for,” she grumbles, but she’s more amused than annoyed. “No, d’Artagnan needs stitches.”

D’Artagnan gives a little wave from behind her. Aramis opens the door wider and gestures grandly for them to come inside. “So, why do you need stitches?” he asks, leading them back to the kitchen and kneeling down to open a locked cabinet. Constance directs d’Artagnan to a chair and sits down herself to wait.

“I got into a fight,” d’Artagnan admits after a moment. “The other guy pulled a knife and I didn’t dodge fast enough.”

Aramis nods, laying out medical supplies on the dining table. He gently pulls the towel away from d’Artagnan’s arm. “I can appreciate a good knife fight,” he says, examining the wound. “What were you fighting about?”

“Uh, he was being an asshole. Where did you get all of this stuff?”

“I do work study at the campus clinic. I borrow things.”

“Ah,” d’Artagnan says after a moment.

Constance snickers. “Aramis, be nice. He’s never done crime before.”

“Neither have you, officially,” Aramis points out.

“Like Treville would ever let any of us have a permanent record.”

“True,” Aramis admits. He hands d’Artagnan a couple of pills and a glass of water. “Those will knock you right out. You won’t feel a thing when I start stitching your arm.”

D’Artagnan takes the pills. He trusts Constance’s judgement, at least, and if she says her crazy friend knows what he’s doing, he believes her.

The next thing d’Artagnan knows, he’s waking up on an unfamiliar couch. He sits up slowly, and looks around while he waits for his brain to wake up all the way. The room is tidy enough, with decorations on the walls and antique-looking furniture. There’s also a note on the coffee table, with his name written at the top in big capital letters.

_ D’ARTAGNAN, _

_ Good morning! By the time you wake up everyone will be out of the house, so you’re there alone. If you have anything important to get to, I won’t keep you. Just be careful with your arm and don’t tell anyone where you got treated. If you don’t need to leave in a hurry, you should stay here until I get back (at 1:30!) so I can check on your stitches one more time. That was quite a cut! Help yourself to anything in the kitchen and/or movie shelf in the meantime. Porthos might be home before me, but don’t worry, he’s not as intimidating as he looks. _

_ Aramis :) _

D’Artagnan reads the note a couple of times. It exudes an overwhelmingly cheerful energy which, as far as he can tell, seems to be very characteristic of Aramis. It feels strange to be wandering around someone else’s house with no one there, but d’Artagnan decides he’s hungry enough to take Aramis up on his offer.

The stove clock reads 11:39 when he wanders into the kitchen, so he still has a couple hours before Aramis will get back to check on his arm. He spends a few minutes looking through the cupboards to figure out where everything is, then sets about making himself a sandwich. He eats at the dining table, because he’s not sure if Aramis and his roommates have rules about food in rooms that aren’t the kitchen, then he puts his plate in the dishwasher.

The movie shelf is mostly action, though there are also some horror movies and a couple romances. He’s just put some car chase movie into the DVD player when the front door opens, startling him. He turns around to see Aramis and two other men walk through the door, talking loudly with each other.

“Why would she even do that?” Aramis is saying. He spots d’Artagnan kneeling by the TV and breaks off his complaint, expression changing to a grin so fast it’s almost as if someone flipped a switch. “D’Artagnan! How’s your arm feeling?”

“Good,” d’Artagnan says. Then, because he can’t think of anything else to say, “it’s not one thirty.”

Aramis waves him off. “You know how ex girlfriend drama is,” he says. “Let me see your stitches.”

D’Artagnan cannot for the life of him see what ex girlfriend drama has to do with Aramis getting home early, but he offers up his arm for inspection anyway. “So… am I allowed to ask what kind of drama?” he asks while Aramis sits them down on the couch to check his stitches.

“My ex framed me to try to get me expelled,” one of Aramis’s roommates says. “Richelieu gave us until Monday to prove it wasn’t me.”

"I think Richelieu is in on it," says Aramis’s other roommate. "He doesn't like us," he adds at d’Artagnan’s confused expression.

Aramis makes a thoughtful noise as he finishes his examination. "Do you want to help us out?" he asks. His roommates give him a look. "What? We're used to having three people and Athos's university credentials are revoked until they come to a final decision. And besides," he adds, grinning mischievously, "Constance might be there."

D'Artagnan has a feeling he's getting himself in way over his head. He shrugs. "Why not?"


End file.
